


Coffee + Painkillers

by ArtieCarden



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Aged-Up Character(s), Alive Marco Bott, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst, Back Pain, Ballet, Chronic Pain, Coffee, Coffee Shops, Dancer, F/F, F/M, Gay Sex, Hospitals, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein-centric, Modern AU, Multi, Oral Sex, POV Jean Kirstein, Painkillers, Sex, jock marco, loner jean, twenty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-05 06:52:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11008215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtieCarden/pseuds/ArtieCarden
Summary: Jean has been suffering with Chronic Pain for years now, no doctor has figured out a cause or a cure. He's on a constant rotation of different therapies and is finally forced into a pain management group; he's been to pain management before but it was 1:1. Jean doesn't really like people too much. He's grouchy and hard to talk to as his pain slowly worsens, making it harder to really take care of himself. He has no job, lives in a shitty bed-sit, can't carry his shopping, and takes 2 painkillers a day just to attempt to minimise the effects.At this group, Jean meets a pushy but wonderfully sweet guy named Marco. Jean is hesitant to become friends with this guy, but they're forced to pair up and help keep each other on track between sessions.How is Jean going to cope? Only a higher being would know!





	1. My Name Is Pain

This all started with my first pain management group at the Maria City Centre Hospital. I don’t do groups, I don’t even like talking in one on one situations. But my physiotherapist, Dr. Levi Rivai, told me I should really try a group. Not feel so isolated and all that. Short arse grumpy bastard.

            White walls and blue linoleum floors stretched out in front of me. The sense of death hung in every corner. I was led to the room and entered, slightly late. Cigarette smoke lingered on my clothes, a stark comparison to the sanitising alcohol I rubbed into my hands.

            Everyone had gathered in a circle of cheap plastic chairs. Uncomfortable chairs for a bunch of uncomfortable people. I grabbed a chair, the feet scraped along the floor, and I sat slightly outside the circle.

The workshop leader had handed out booklets before I’d arrived. She shuffled with her paper-filled folders, her auburn hair in a messy ponytail. A brunet guy in athletic sweats was looking at me. He smiled, freckles disappearing into his crinkles; he handed me a booklet.

I grimaced and took it. His eyebrows pinched together. I jerked my head and stared at the pages in my hands.

“So sorry about all this! I thought I was more organised,” the lady said. “Today I thought we would take it easy, get to know each other, get comfortable. So how about I start by introducing myself and go left around the circle, you can all follow my format if that helps.” She smiled wide and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “My name is Dr. Zoe Hanji, but you can all call me Zoe. I am 39 and suffer with chronic pain. I was diagnosed when I was 28.” She looked expectantly to her left.

“Hi, I’m Connie! I’m 23 and have Crohn’s disease. So if you see me get up and leave the room, I’ve gone to shit.” Connie had his hair buzzed short and wore scruffy jeans and a bright orange hoodie. His head was very round.

“I’m Sasha, I’m 24 and have carpal tunnel. I play too many video games.” She laughed, her highly tied ponytail swung around her head. She wore wrist supports.

“My name’s Reiner, I’m 21. I got into a sports accident and have some pretty gnarly nerve damage.” He was broad with a blonde buzz cut. He held hands with the guy next to him who looked nervous.

He cleared his throat a few times.

“My name’s Bertholdt, I prefer Bert. I’m 23 and I have arthritis.”

Then it was my turn.

“Jean. 22. Fibromyalgia.” I said. I leaned further back into my seat and gently rocked. My eyes just wanted to close. I couldn’t keep my focus. The room was warm and tried to lull me into sleep.

My head snapped upright.

It was The Boy’s turn. He smiled softly and rubbed his right knee. He adjusted his leg and set it out straight.

“My name’s Marco. I’m 23. I have Chondromalacia Patellae in my right knee. Also some back pain. The doctors think it’s from an injury.”

“Wonderful thank you! I’m going to briefly go through your work booklets and let you all have some of the snacks provided. I’d like you to talk to each other and hopefully we can work in pairs for this eight week period so that you all have a supportive friend outside our sessions.” Dr. Hanji said. She flicked the booklet open and began reading and explaining sections.

My eyes drifted to the large windows behind her. My eyes stung; I hadn’t slept properly in months.

I quickly typed in my phone notes: ‘GET SLEEP PILLS OFF GP’

Everyone around me stood and ambled over to the refreshments. I heaved myself to my feet and stiffly walked to the coffee. They all spoke to one another with more energy than I could ever imagine having.

            I stirred sugar into my strong black coffee.

            “Hey,” Marco said. I didn’t think he was addressing me. “I noticed you hadn’t spoken to anyone here yet, thought I’d say hi.” My head twitched in his direction. He leaned on the table, holding weight off his injured knee.

            “I’m not very sociable.” I dropped the teaspoon on the table and sipped my drink; the warmth of the mug seeped into my cold hands.

            He laughed.

            “Spoons?” He asked. I narrowed my eyes, sipped my coffee.

            “Two.”

            “Ah, I understand.” He nodded.

            “This is our first session, how do you know about spoons?”

            He laughed again.

            “I’ve been going through a lot of different therapies to try and recover. I did a bit of pain management before I came to the group.”

            “Same.” I drained my mug and stared at him.

Dr. Hanji shuffled over, pushing her glasses back up her nose. “Jean! I’ve heard so much about you from Levi! We’re old friends. I’m so glad you’re talking to someone! Marco, Jean, how about we hurry this along and put you both together as partners? I think you’ll be a great match.” She nodded manically.

I pulled the hood of my black jacket up and tucked my hands into my sleeves. So cold. Marco smiled and appeased her.

“That sounds good to me, Dr. Hanji.”

“Wonderful! Right, must get on mingling, make sure everybody is okay!” She wandered over to the bald kid and the swingy-ponytail girl.

I let out a sign and sagged against the wall.

            He scribbled on a corner of his booklet, ripped it off and handed it to me.

            “That’s my number. Meet me in town tomorrow for lunch?” I slowly took the paper from him. “I’ve got to head off and pick up my little sister from school. See you.”

            And he left.

 

I was in and out of sleep from three the next morning. I spent hours staring at the ceiling. My body felt stiff, like a limb would fall of if I moved. My eyes were dry. I rolled onto my side and began my daily routine. I hoisted myself up and sat on the edge of my bed for a few moments, head hanging. I took deep breaths and carefully stretched out my joints.

            My phone vibrated on my bedside table.

            10:45 PILLS

            I sighed, grasped the bottle of water that forever resided on my side table and pulled my weekly pill pot from the draw. I popped the lid open and shoved four pills in my mouth, swallowing them in one.

            I felt hollow and empty. I wanted to lie back down and stay in bed for the day. I’d feel bad if I didn’t meet Marco.

            I sent a text to the number he scrawled out.

        **\- Hey its Jean. Where we meeting?**

**\- Hi Jean! :) I know this sandwich place that does good coffee off a side road from the station. Its called The Sawney and Bean Café.**

**\- Thnk I kno it yeh**

**\- Great! I’ll meet you there at 12?**

**\- sure ok c u**

 

The Sawney and Bean Café used to be an old antiques shop; I remember passing it regularly on my way to college. They had an outside table area set up with funky purple umbrellas. I dragged a seat out and sat. I rolled the sleeves of my blue and green plaid shirt up and adjusted my sunglasses. I kept a spare jacket in my backpack. I flicked cigarette ash on the floor and took a long drag.

            “Wow, it’s so warm today!” Marco said, placing his grey backpack on the ground under the table. I nodded. “Want a drink?”

            “Yeah please, I’ll have a mocha.” He nods. “But uh… can I have cream on top. And uh… can you grab like a handful of brown sugar sachets?”

            Marco laughed.

            “Yeah of course.”

            He walked with a slight limp into the café. I stubbed out my cigarette and leaned back in my chair. I rolled my shoulders and cracked my neck. The sun warmed my cheeks and a light breeze tousled my hair. Bright green parakeets glided in the air and gathered in trees, chirping loudly.

Marco returned quickly with drinks; he nearly spilled his peppermint tea.

            “I could have gotten my own drink if you were struggling.”

            “No, no. It’s fine.” He smiled and hoisted himself into the seat next to me. “Just overdid it this morning. Shouldn’t have done so much.”

            “I can’t do anything without lash back.”

            “Lash back?”

            “Yeah… lash back…”

            “You mean backlash?”

            “That one.” He laughed. “It’s not funny.”

            “It’s kind of funny.” He nudged my bicep. He wasn’t in sports clothes today. He wore fitted black jeans and a cream t-shirt with a small navy bear over his heart. I was in the t-shirt I slept in the night before and ripped jeans that had lived on my bedroom floor for a few weeks.

            I didn’t put on deodorant that morning. Fuck.

            “Oh!” Marco reached into his front pocket and pulled out an excessive amount of sugar sachets, dropping them on the table in front of me. “Your sugar.” He grinned at me.

            I felt the corner of my mouth tug into a half smirk. I peered over my sunglasses at him. He sipped his tea; a gentle smile on his face and one small dimple dented his cheek. His sleepy brown eyes were framed with long eyelashes, and tiny wrinkles in the outer corners.

            “Do I have something on my face?” His eyebrows pinched together.

            “Uh, no. No.” I cleared my throat and pushed my sunglasses back up my nose. “Thanks for the drink.” I began tearing open sugar sachets and pouring them into a gap in the cream.

            “You’re welcome. I brought the booklet. I dunno, I thought maybe we could talk about some goals?”

            “My goal is to not be crippled anymore.” I said before I thought about it. Marco looked at me slightly startled. “Sorry.”

            “No it’s fine, I get it. I mean don’t we all?”

            “We aren’t the same though.” I sipped my drink and quickly wiped foam off my lip.

            “No one’s the same, Jean.” His smile was small.

            He was right. Why did I have such a complex? I was angry that this happened to me. I was 22. I should have been out drinking with friends, going to uni, working a job. I should be able to travel and try extreme sports. I should have been able to learn to skateboard and rollerblade.

            “What was it you did before your knee then?” I said.

            There was a sudden burst of energy in his face.

            “I used to do some ice hockey for fun, it gets pretty violent but it was so great.” He turned in his chair to face me more. He crossed his bad knee over his good knee. “But I really wanted to dance.”

            “Dance?”

            “Yeah, I was training to be a professional ballet dancer. I wanted to study to teach as well.”

            “So now what?”

            “Uh, well…” He looked at his hands, he picked at his cuticles. “I don’t know. I’ve not been able to train as intensely in over a year.”

            “Well, shit.”

            “It is quite.” He smiled at me again. How can he stay so positive? “So far, things help but nothing cures it.”

            “Yeah I understand that.”

            “So, right now, it doesn’t look like I’ll ever dance professionally. I’d still love to teach though.”

            “So that’s your goal. Start becoming a dance teacher.” I scooped some cream onto my finger and quickly put it in my mouth. Some dropped onto my jeans. I scrubbed my hand into it.

            “Yeah I guess so.” He smiled warmly and wrote in his booklet. He looked at me and tapped his chin. I wiped at my face. He laughed, picking up a napkin and wiped off some cream. My cheeks flushed hot. “What about you, what drives you?”

            “Nothing.”

            He hesitated and chewed his bottom lip.

            “How about…” He scribbled something else down and slid the paper towards me.

            _Find a purpose._

            I smiled.

            “Yeah, that sounds about right.”


	2. Welcome to the House of Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean and Marco get closer. Spoiler alert: They're both queer as all hell. Jean isn't quite ready to explain how queer he really is to Marco just yet.   
> But lots of cute and friendly moments in this chapter, buddies eating McDonalds and dying hair.

We were at that café for hours, going through that fucking booklet. And it wasn’t that bad? I guess Marco had always been easy company. We would meet up a few times a week and constantly text each other. Now he’d got me semi-talking I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I’d see a fuckin’ dog and send him a snapchat of it. It was under the guise of ‘self care’. We liked to laugh about the generic and fluffy version of self care and come up with our own.   
Marco once sent me: Self care is ascending to the astral plane and getting into a knife fight with God.  
I cried so hard.  
I sent him back: selfcare is going mcdonalds nd eatin enough to feed a family of 4  
His response was quick.  
\- You wanna go? I’ll pick you up, we can eat in my car.  
It was close to 10pm, but I really wanted to go.  
\- I’m not dressed tho?  
\- It’s fine, PJ party :P   
\- Ok c u in 15

I couldn’t find my coat, so I was sat in Marco’s little green beetle, wrapped in a blanket. I opened the windows and rested my head against the side; the cool air bristled through my hair. The yellow street lights span past in a blur, looking like one of Van Gogh’s paintings. The sun had only just set, the sky still glowing red at the horizon. The moon and her stars followed us on our adventure like friends. Friends who didn’t talk.  
We pulled into the drive thru and I let Marco order for me.   
“Hey can we get a McChicken sandwich meal with whatever fried cheese is happening?” Marco said, leaning out of his window.   
“Sure, that’ll be mozzarella dippers, is that okay for you?”  
“Yeah that’s perfect thank you. Can we also get a double cheeseburger with Big Mac sauce?”  
“Of course, any drinks for you?”  
“Uhh…” He looked at me.   
I mouthed ‘Sprite’.  
“A Sprite and a full fat Coke, please.”

We waiting at the next window for the food and Marco parked facing the moon. He had some light, atmospheric music playing.   
“What is this?” I asked, unwrapping the burger Marco handed me.   
“Ah this is my wife,” he said, wiping sauce from his chin. “Hayley Kiyoko.”  
I listened as I ate, occasionally watching Marco nodding his head along to the beat. He ate the fries dipped in mayonnaise. I stared out the front window, the moon was almost full, the stars were half out; there was too much light pollution to see them all, like Marco’s freckles.   
“I like her,” I said, “pretty gay.”  
Marco laughed.  
“That’s kind of the point.” He smiled at me.   
My throat felt tight. I tried to clear my throat.   
“She sings about being gay coz she felt this pressure before where she couldn’t. Now she can really sing about what she feels, her music is incredible.” Marco flailed his hands around as he spoke. “I just appreciate good music about being queer.” His cheeks were a little pink.   
“That’s fair.” I took a swig of my drink. I really do suck at communicating.   
He rested his head back against the seat and let his head droop to one side. He looked at me with a gentle smile that crinkled at the outer corners of his eyes. His eyes were such a dark brown, they looked blue in the night.   
“Wanna play a game?”   
“Uhh, I-uh, sure. Okay.” I moved in my seat to face him more.   
“Okay, so I’m going to give you two options. You choose the one that your prefer or is more you. Get it?” I nodded.   
“So, alien or astronaut?”   
“Alien.”  
“Bone or blood.”  
“Blood.”  
“Rot or dust.”  
“Rot. These are weird questions.”  
“I know. Void or abyss.”  
“Void.”  
“Deep.”  
“So deep.” I said. What was all of that? I took another bite of my burger.  
“I like your hair that colour.” Marco said. My hair had grown out so much that you could see a lot of dark roots.  
“I need to re-dye it back to a silver, I’ve had no energy to do it recently.”  
“I’ll help!” He said, shuffling in his seat to face me even more. “I love dying peoples hair, I did it for my sisters all the time when I was younger.”  
“You don’t do it anymore?”  
“No, it’s only my two younger sisters at home now. The others live in different cities.”  
“How many of you are there?”  
“I’m one of five. The only son too.”  
“Jesus.”  
“How about you?”  
“Just me. Or might as well be.” I quickly shoved the last bite of burger in my mouth before he could ask.   
Marco just sort of stared at me for a while.   
“Do you have everything you need to dye your hair?” He asked.   
“Yeah.” I said, still chewing the burger.   
“Well let’s go.”   
“What?!”   
“Let’s go dye your hair.” He looked at me deadpan.   
“I-uh, okay?”

I don’t tend to bring anyone over to my place for a reason. It’s a tiny room, with a bed that can barely be described as a double, and a small sink near the window. The kitchen and bathrooms are communal. I think this place was a shock to Marco.   
“Sorry about the mess,” I said, unlocking the front door. “This place isn’t really big enough for everything.”  
“No worries, my house is filled with people so it’s never tidy!” He smiled, “Would it be okay for me to grab a glass of water? I need to take my painkiller. I’m a bit late, I can’t swallow pills with fizzy drinks-”  
“Obviously. You’ve reminded me to take mine.” I grabbed a couple of glasses and filled them with water. He sat on the edge of my bed looking round the room. He held a little red and white pill.   
I handed him the glass and we took our pills together. This felt weird.   
“I like your room, it’s cool.” He said. He looked at the posters on the walls. I had a few posters by Drew Struzan: the original art for Harry Potter, Star Wars, and a cheeky little poster of Hook.   
“Thanks.” I sat beside him.  
“Shall we get going on your hair?” He turned to me with his crinkly smile; I could really see the freckles over the bridge of his nose.  
“Oh yeah, hold on.” I bent over and dragged a box of hair dye stuff out. “We’ll need to bleach it again first.” Marco started pulling things out and lining them up next to him.   
“Do you wanna put some music on whilst I sort this out?” He said. I nodded.   
I was really getting into atmospheric music lately, so I pulled out my laptop and searched for a generic dystopian playlist; they never failed to have at least two Muse songs wedged in there. Otherwise, it was always a selection of songs I’d never heard. I set my laptop to one side and reached over to my dresser to find my ‘hair dying t-shirt’.   
I pulled my top up from the back of the neck.   
“What colour is the one we need after bleach?” Marco asked.   
I got my head stuck.   
“Uh, the uh… hold on.” I tried to wrangle my arms free. I could hear Marco laughing. His warm hands grasped the sleeves and pulled me free. He handed my t-shirt back to me. With my head bowed, I looked up at him through my over-grown fringe.   
“I think you could use a haircut too.” He smiled. He picked up a medium grey colour from the box. “Slate. Is this it?” He shook the box.   
His hands were freckled too. There was one freckle on the inside of his right wrist next to his blue veins and tiny little luminescent scars.  
He shook the box again.   
“O-oh, yeah that’s the one.”  
He put on gloves and mixed the peroxide; he was careful with the application and did my hair in small sections. It started to tingle around my ears as he finished and shoved a shower cap on my head.   
“Timer’s on.” He peeled off the gloves and threw them in my bin. “What do you wanna do?”  
I shrugged and patted my head, trying to subdue the itching.   
He chewed on his lower lip and looked up at the ceiling.   
“How about funny coming out stories?”  
I choked on my saliva.  
“How’d you know-”  
“You have a booked called ‘Two Boys Kissing’, I don’t need to have read it to know it’s gay.”   
“Okay. I’ll give you that.”  
“So do you wanna go first or shall I?” I hesitated. “I was at hockey training. I was having an off day, my coach came up to me and was like ‘Bodt, you seem to be having trouble shooting straight,’ I remember looking him dead in the eyes and saying ‘I’m also having trouble being straight,’ everyone around us went quiet and I could feel them side-eyeing me. Coach just sighed, shook his head, and said ‘hit the damn puck, Bodt’. That’s how I came out to my hockey team.”   
I looked at him for a moment. He had a small smug smile on his face. Laughter bubbled out of my chest, tears stemmed from my eyes.   
“Everyone was fine with it.” He laughed with me. “How about you then?”  
I wiped my eyes with my t-shirt and patted my head where the heat was worst as I thought.   
“Uh okay. Mine was kinda accidental. My mum had this demon of a cat that would tear up our towels and bed sheets if it got into the cupboard. I was, 14 maybe? I’d got in from school in summer, went for a shower, must’ve left the fucking cupboard open when I grabbed a towel. I hear this yowling and a fumbling noise. Spent a good 45 minutes trying to get the little fucker out, but he kept clawing me before I could get a good grip. I got so pissed I started shouting at the bastard, and I shouted ‘I’m the only one who can stay in the closet forever, not you!’ Then my mum came up the stairs.” Marco cupped a hand over his mouth. “Yeah, she was like ‘are you okay, sweetie?’”   
“Oh nooo, then what?”  
“Uh, she made me a milkshake out of the posh ice cream she used to buy for herself, gave it to me, and asked if I had anything to tell her? No mum. Think I’m good.”   
“I came out to my ballet class with a one-liner. ‘Heard the news? I’m into dudes!’”  
“I had a preference for ‘I’m here, I’m queer’, I know, dull.”  
“I mean, me too. But I tried to get creative.”  
“You sayin’ I’m unoriginal?”   
“Maybe.”   
The timer buzzed loudly on my nightstand. Marco ran his fingers through his hair and turned off the alarm. I grabbed the small towel hanging off a handle on my dresser.   
“Time to use that convenient communal bathroom of yours.”  
“Don’t drown me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, lack in motivation and also busy as all hell. I'm applying for an internship and trying to sort out moving house and doctors.   
> Sorry for any grammar mistakes, I didn't have anyone proof read for me. 
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter title: House of Pain - Venom


	3. I'm Feeling The Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This week Jean is forced to socialise with other group members (or memebers as they'd call themselves): Connie and Sasha. We hear their stories and find out that Jean and Marco are actually struggling with money problems...

My hair turned out great actually; I’ll be asking Marco to do it again next time. We lied in bed talking for hours and I think I fell asleep whilst he was telling me a story. He said he didn’t mind. He left pretty early. I stayed in bed that day, we texted constantly.

 

It’s that time of the week again. Pain management was more of a pain in my arse than any kind of help. Okay that’s a bit harsh, I got one good thing out of this so far.

Dr. Hanji babbled for a while, it’s fine Marco at least listens. He’ll tell me the important stuff later at our usual café. She left us to do a group exercise in fours, so two pairs. Marco had become friendly with the hyperactive duo: Connie and Sasha.

“My butt hurts something chronic!” Connie laughed.

“Ayyeeee!” Sasha said, shooting him finger guns.

Marco laughed turning to me.

“Jean, these two are Connie and Sasha.”

“We’re gonna have a cracking good time.” Sasha said, clapping me on the arm. I looked at Marco, expressionless.

“What are we doing?” I whispered.

“Oh, we are supposed to trade stories about our pain, but yanno, only if you’re up for it.” His smile was warm and gentle. My shoulders relaxed a little as we settled into a small chair circle.

Connie sighed, “I’ll go first! My story is a real pain in the ass…” he nodded and wiggled his eyebrows at us.

“Oh my God, Connie, that was bad even for you.” Sasha said.

“I know but I couldn’t help myself. Anyway, I have Crohn’s. I was told for a long time that it was all in my mind, I’ve eaten something bad, I need to change my diet, blah blah…” He rubbed his eyes, they had deep set shadows underneath: common in this group. “My teachers literally refused to let me go to the bathroom. I lost a lot of weight because everything I ate literally just went through me. I might as well have not digested it. I got really sick because I wasn’t able to absorb any nutrients from the food I ate so changing my diet didn’t help. My Ma thought I had an eating disorder for a hot minute, I looked so sick. I eventually saw a Gastroenterologist coz my GP had no fucking clue. Turns out I had this fat-off ulcer in my stomach. I had to have surgery and I spent so much time in hospitals I asked Ma to bring me art pads and pencils to pass the time. The happy ending to this story is I realised I fucking love drawing and I got into uni to study art and animation coz I wanna draw my own cartoon strips and make cartoon mini-series.” His smile was so big, but he looked so tired. I’m not sure anyone was having a good day today.

“He’s really good!” Sasha added, “You should totally show them your book!” she bounced in her seat.

“Maybe later, you need to tell your story.” He stuck his tongue out at her and she laughed.

“Alright, I guess I have to seeing as my story is so fantastic and interesting.” She rolled her eyes back in her head for a moment. “So, Carpal Tunnel. I basically started noticing this dull ache in my hands and wrists at night, I mean I mostly streamed video games at night so made sense. Didn’t think anything of it. Then I started to drop stuff, like I broke a bunch of my mums favourite glasses coz my hands would just… let go? And the pain got worse and happened during the day too. Off to the doctor I went and he said ‘you’ve got CTS’ and I was like ‘whats CTS’-”

“Alright Sash, get to it.” Connie said, he’d reached over to the refreshments table and grabbed some digestive biscuits.

“Sorry, sorry. Uhhh… Yeah. So he told me to get wrist splints coz I needed to rest my hands, and minimise the ‘strenuous’ activity I’d been doing. I cried. Video games were all I had. We tried painkillers: nothing. I got a bunch of exercises to do. It got a little better so he told me to only wear my splints at night. Got worse again coz I didn’t listen and I went back to streaming every night. I was fed up of not doing a bunch of shit. Have you tried drinking water out of a cup with wrist splints on? It’s ridiculous!” She sighed, tightened her ponytail and looked at the ceiling. “So my Doc suggested corticosterioid injections. Lemme tell you, they’re a real fucker! Worst pain I’ve felt. So I dunno, since then I’ve given acupuncture a go as well, but I refuse to stop streaming – I’ve cut down – but I refuse to stop! I WILL NOT BE BEAT DOWN BY THE MAN!”

“Basically,” Connie said, “We started smoking weed together coz it’s the only thing that stops the terrorising pain that we call chronic.”

“Understandable.” I said.

“We’ve talked a lot. You guys go!” Sasha said, she sat back in her chair and gave her wrists a twirl.

 

I didn’t feel like sharing. What’s the point when my story is, ‘no one knows!’ and ‘nothing helps!’? Marco gripped my shoulder when I ducked out of sharing, and gave me a knowing smile. I made myself a coffee and took a moment to myself as Marco told his story.

            I brought back snacks, that’s enough right?

            It was enough for Connie and Sasha.

            “Yesssss!” Connie said and lunged forward to grasp some food.

            “Oh my God. Saviour. You are the second coming of Christ.” Sasha babbled and stuffed biscuits in her mouth. “That’s so cool though, that you play ice hockey and dance? Urgh, wish I had any physical capabilities!” She sprayed crumbs down herself as she spoke.

            “It must be super hard having that stuff taken away from you though.” Connie said. He tilted his head and gave Marco a sympathetic look.

            “It does but I guess it’s like with Sasha; I can still participate just not as much as I used to.”

            “URGH! MODERATE LIVING!” Sasha groaned.

            We all laughed at that.

            “What I’d give to go to the pub with my mates for a sesh and not have to worry about my bowels. Or stomach cramp from pub grub.” Connie sighed.

            “What I’d give to go out clubbing on a whim with my mates and not come home til 4am with out worrying I might drop my drinks before I’m even sloshed!” Sasha laughed.

            Marco joined in. “What I’d give to hurt from hard-core hockey training and not just from driving too long.”

            They all chuckled and looked at me.

            My heart thudded inside my ribcage. I looked at them for a moment; small smiles curved their lips.

            “What I’d do…” my breathing was heavy. “What I’d do to sleep and actually feel rested in the morning and not just more drained.”

            There was a long pause.

            “Ohmygod, yeah.” Sasha said.

            “Literally me.” Connie said and rubbed his eyes again. “My eyes are burning from the shitty sleep I get.”

            “I wake up every hour, on the hour from 4am.” Sasha added.

            “I spend half the night awake coz the pain just doesn’t subside.” Marco said. He had a really warm smile on his face. He gripped my knee. He somehow knew how to make me feel… I don’t know. What is this feeling?

            I can’t describe positive feelings. I’ll work it out eventually. Maybe.

 

Dr. Hanji ended the session and gave us some mindfulness exercises to try (fuck off please) and Marco and I traded numbers with Connie and Sasha. They were off to go swimming; they said it was ‘hydro-therapy’ but Connie admitted they were actually going for the whirlpool and the crazy slides. I don’t blame them.

            I couldn’t wait to get out of the building for a cigarette; my fingers anxiously rolled the tobacco into shape as walked through the halls.

            “You did really well in there.” Marco said, checking his phone.

            I grunted in reply and licked the rolling paper.

            “I mean it, you gave the group exercise a go.” I gave him a look. “Okay, you kinda gave it a go. You joined in at the end.”

            I laughed, cigarette between my lips as I fumbled through my pockets for a lighter.

            The entrance doors slid open with a lough smack. I lit my cigarette as soon my foot crossed the doorway. My hands shook and my lower back ached. Breathe in, hold, slowly breathe out; watch the smoke dance in the air. I tilted my chin up and let out a huff.

            “Better?” Marco asked.

            I closed my eyes and nodded with a deep inhale.

            “Sorry.” My voice felt rough.

            “Don’t be.” He put a hand on my shoulder and led me to his car. “Where to?”

            “The Sawney and Bean.” I took another drag on my fag.

            “You got it.”

 

Marco didn’t let me smoke in his car. He sat in the drivers seat and locked me out until I was done. I could see him laughing at me. He pulled faces at me for a while.

            “Alright I’m done, lemme in. Shit head.” I walked round to the passenger side and impatiently pulled at the handle a few times.

            “Leave the handle alone for God’s sake.”

            He unlocked the door and I got in slowly with stiff movements. Hayley Kiyoko was playing.

            “Do you listen to anything else, ever?”

            “Not really, it’s the only CD I have anymore. My iPod kinda sucks.”

            “You have 1 CD to your name? I mean I guess everyone streams music or just downloads tracks but how-“

            “I sold them all. Along with my vinyl collection.”

            “Why?”

            “I live at home with my parents, two little sisters, and sometimes two older sisters depending on when they come back. I’ve not been able to get a job that works round my doctors visits and I feel like I need to contribute money to the household somehow. So I sold stuff.”

            “Wow. I mean I did something similar so I could move out. I don’t have a lot of stuff left as you saw.” I looked out the passenger window for a bit. All the tall apartment complexes and shop fronts whizzed past, overcast skies lurked above. The air was muggy. “I need to find a way to make regular money. I’m running low.”

            “Me too.”

 

We pulled up to the usual parking spot and walked to the café, work books in hand. Placing our stuff down at a table just outside the front door, Marco stopped and looked at the window.

            “What you looking at?” I looked through the window, one hand cupped around my face. “Urgh, it’s that angry barista again.”

            “No, that’s not it. Look.” He pointed at a sign.

 

_PART-TIME BARISTAS WANTED_

_WEEKENDS AND SOME EVEVINGS_

_£7.45 P/H_

_INQUIRE WITHIN_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is late and MY BAD but I've moved out of one house and I'm about to move into another for my last year at uni. ((KMS)) but here's chapter 3!
> 
> I also started making a spotify playlist for this fic! It's collaborative so you guys can add songs you think would fit the vibe!!  
> https://t.co/g5sQEzykSx
> 
> Uploading from this point will probably become less regular and become very irregular. I do plan on continuing this!! so please don't worry, I'll just have A L O T going on once term starts up again!
> 
>  ((ALSO the lay out might look different coz I figured out how to get this site to let me post how I write with indents etc. I hope it makes for easier reading!))
> 
> chapter title is: Sand in my Joints - Wire


	4. Crush This Momentary Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter we see our two boys applying for their jobs in their favourite cafe, Jean gets angsty in the bath, and it's Marco's twin younger sisters' birthday today and Jean got an invite.   
> Too many Bodts to fill the house so, I guess Marco will have to stay at Jeans!

I watched Marco go in to order our drinks and enquire about the job. He was laughing with the Angry Barista and went to pay; the barista waved a hand and shook his head with a wink. ‘It’s on me’ he said. Marco looked flushed and tried to pay again. Angry Barista to me seemed to be Flirty Barista to Marco. Urgh. I rolled my eyes and turned round to face the road; I flicked ash from my roll-up and took another drag.

            Soon Marco came back outside with some papers.

            “Eren said he would bring our drinks out for us. He’s so nice, I don’t know why you think he’s so angry-”

            “Because he is angry.” I forcefully stubbed my fag out in the ashtray. “What’re those?”

            “Application forms! I thought we could do them together here and hand them back in before we leave?” He held one out to me. “I really need the job.”

            I stared at his hand holding the form for a while, and then looked up at his face; he looked uneasy. I sighed and snatched the form out of his grasp.

            “Fine. Let’s do this then.”

            Tension fell from his shoulders as he smiled. He passed me a pen from his backpack and we began to fill in this form.

           

‘Eren’ brought our drinks out just as we finished the forms.

            “Thank you so much, Eren! You didn’t have to.” Marco said, making room for the drinks. He quickly pulled out sugar sachets from his jacket pocket. “Oops, almost forgot these!” He smiled at me.

            I started tearing the tops off and emptying them into my mocha; I kept my eyes on Eren.

            “It’s no problem, I see you come in all the time.” He ran his fingers through his shaggy out-grown fringe. “Seeing you brightens my day.”

            Oh. My. God.

            I rolled my eyes and made a gagging noise in the back of my throat. I stared into my mocha as I stirred in the sugar.

            “Oh! I-I… uh, God…” Marco said, “that’s very nice of you but I don’t see how I could possibly do that.”

            “You’re our nicest customer. Sweet like syrup.” Eren leaned on the table.

            “I-I-I… I’m only being polite!” he chuckled lightly and scratched the back of his head.

            “Sure you are,” Eren said, “I see you guys have more paper work to do so I’ll leave you to it.” He looked me dead in the eyes and smirked, wiggling his eyebrows. “Don’t forget your napkins.” He pushed a small pile of napkins towards Marco and left.

            I watched him enter the café and as soon as the door closed behind him I turned to Marco.

            “What the actual fuck was that?”

            Marco looked startled.

            “I don’t know what you mean!” He held up his hands and shrank away from me.

            I grabbed hold of the napkins.

            “He fucking left you his number!” I waved one in front of Marco’s face. His eyes widened and his cheeks grew red. He scratched his cheek.

            “Oh, well… uh…” He stirred his peppermint tea. “I have nothing to say to that.”

            “What does that mean? He clearly wants to take you out!” I chucked the napkin down on the table and crossed my arms.

            “Is that a problem?”

            Whoa, wait.

            “What?”

            “Is that a problem that Eren asked me on a date?”

            “Yes, coz he sucks!” That was the best I could come up with.

            “Well, good thing he didn’t ask you on a date then.” His eyebrows pinched together and his lips pouted slightly.

            “Like that would happen.”

            “Exactly, what’s it got to do with you?” He looked at me with the grumpiest expression I’ve ever seen on his face.

            Oh, fuck.

            “Well, nothing I guess.” I avoided eye contact. “I just think it would suck you dating someone I don’t get along with.”

            “Did I actually say I was going to?”

            “Um, no?”

            “Then why are you so wound up? I don’t know if I want to go out with him, he hasn’t actually asked me either, you’re assuming a lot.” He took a sip of his tea. He still looked grumpy. “If we’re going to work here, I don’t know if I even would date him, it would make it weird.”

            Marco is far too logical for me, really. He knows how to avoid answering questions and making me realise I’m being a fucking idiot. I let it go.

            “Okay, fine, whatever. Do what you want. Lets get on with these fucking booklets.”

 

Later that night I ran myself a bath, which was in its own room. No one would disturb me for a good couple of hours. I poured in some Epsom bath salts (meant to help muscle pain, at this point I’ll do anything) and plopped some lavender oil in a dish of hot water to help me relax.

            I stepped in the scorching bath and sank right down, covering my whole body. Only my head popped out of the water. My ribs hurt a lot. I closed my eyes. My phone played some relaxation Spotify playlist. Lots of ‘calming’ white noise.

            I like baths coz it’s the one time I can reduce some physical tension, but I fucking hate laying here for hours with nothing to occupy my brain. Trying to stop it yelling at me. Bathrooms and bedrooms are places of haunted thoughts. Nothing is off limits. Regretful memories, anxious predictions, sometimes soft daydreams.

            I thought about Marco. A lot.

            Unfortunately, it would always turn to Marco getting tired of me. Or if someone did actually ask him on a date and he didn’t want to spend time with me anymore. Or the person he dates makes him think I’m a horrible person who shouldn’t be trusted. I mean… I think I am 50% of the time, but I try not to be. I try to just be grumpy but not spiteful… but I can be.

            And there the thoughts go, they spiral.

            By the end of a bath, my body feels refreshed, but by brain is ready to kill myself. I’m ready to tear my heart out my chest to stop feeling like this… but I can’t. Somehow, I just keep going.

 

Marco and I had calls from the café for short face-to-face interviews. I tried to wear my best clothes, but I don’t really have any. Nothing fits right. The interviewer kept calling me Jeen. I had to restrain myself. They put us both on shift a few days later with Angry Barista for training. They must be really understaffed if he’s the best they have.

            It was all fine until my phone alarm sounded from my jeans pocket.

            “Phones must be off when you’re on shift,” He said giving me a disinterested glance.

            “Sorry, but I have to take my meds, if I don’t have the alarm on, I’ll forget.”

            “Put it on silent.”

            “It doesn’t really work on silent.” I tried to be polite, I swear. This is just a thing I have to do otherwise I literally won’t take my fucking pills.

            He rolled his eyes at me.

            “I’ll have to talk to the supervisor about it.”

            I glared at the back of his head. Marco nudged me.

            Eren had gone through the ropes of how it works here and we were put on short, part-time shifts. Some were together, some weren’t. I started putting in my next couple of shifts into my phone calendar whilst Marco and Eren chatted.

            “We should go get dinner after shift.” Eren said, leaning in closer and rubbed his shoulder against Marco’s. “There’s a really great place down the road I’ve been meaning to go to-”

            “I don’t think I can, sorry. It’s my sisters’ birthday.” He smiled politely and looked over at me. He caught me glaring over the counter at them. I quickly went back to adding shifts to my calendar and waited for Marco to join me.

            Eren went in the back for some reason.

            “Oh-la-la.” I rolled my eyes and looked at Marco. “Was that a legit excuse or just an excuse?”

            “It’s really my two younger sisters’ birthday today. I have to pick up a cake on the way home. My older sisters’ are coming for the celebrations too.”

            “Oh, cool, so the whole family’s about.”

            Marco nodded. He looked a bit stressed.

            “Do you wanna come?” he said, quietly. His eyes remained on the time sheet.

            “If you want me to come, then yeah.”

            “I would actually.”

            “Really?” He looked at me, eyebrows still pinched.

            “Yeah, I like your presence.”

            “You like my presence?”

            “Yeah that surprised me too.” A smile quirked his lips. I grinned, shaking my head and gave him a punch on the arm.

            “Can you take me home after?”

            “Of course, Jean.”

 

Marco planted a huge cake in my lap and got back into his car. I tilted my head to read the writing. ‘You’re finally a teen, happy 13th birthday Karrisa and Loretta!’

            “That’s so sweet I want to vomit.” I commented and looked out the window.

            “My family are like that.” He laughed. “Kinda cheesy, family is super important to us.”

            The sky started to turn pink as the sunset closed in on us.

            “Is everyone staying round tonight then?” I asked.

            Marco nodded.

            “We don’t really have the space but we will make room.” He smiled and took a turn.

            “What do you mean?”

            “Uh, well, we have three bedrooms: my parents’ room, my younger sisters’ room and my room. So we have to squeeze in my older sisters otherwise they can’t come. The commute is long.”

            “Do you want to stay at mine tonight? Make a little more room at yours?” There was silence for a moment, I started to get anxious and began babbling. “I mean, I know my bed isn’t big but there’s enough room to share and that’s better than someone sleeping on the floor right? Or the couch?”

            Marco laughed loudly; a big smile split his face.

            “Calm down, Jean,” he said, “That isn’t a bad idea. But I don’t want to intrude.”

            “Intrude? I invited you!” I shook my head. We pulled into a driveway. The row of houses were all connected and sat next to an estate. The front garden had been turned into a driveway. The road looked pretty packed with cars.

            Marco turned the car off. We climbed out of the car and approached the front door of the house on the end. Marco pulled out his house key.

            “That would be really helpful, Jean. I’ll tell my parents and pack a bag.” He smiled and turned the key in the lock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND WE'RE BACK!   
> Sorry for the delay, I was finishing my degree (lmao kms). Hopefully I'll be back on writing some more chapters, I have the ideas for next chapter already just need to get on it! Let me know what you think! 
> 
> this chapter is named after: Crush this momentary pain – this momentary affliction - Mortification

**Author's Note:**

> I wont lie to you all. I haven't written fanfiction since I was about 14 and obsessed with Naruto. I am now 22 at Uni studying Creative Writing and I want to try and set up a continuing project of fanfictions to work on my writing and receive feedback etc. Hopefully create a little community.  
> I had to write this for an assignment this year and honestly wanted to continue writing it! I plan on writing this summer as much as I can of the fic. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy my gay sons 
> 
>  
> 
> UPDATE: 22 APRIL 2018   
> I will be back on writing this once my degree is finished. I am also struggling with money and will have a worse struggle when I move to my next place (hopefully I'll have a part-time job but who knows these days) so if you would like to donate to me to support my works here is a link to my paypal paypal.me/amiedelisle  
> Thanks x  
>  
> 
> Chapter name from Pain - Elton John


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